Moments Like Sand
by Endless Secrets
Summary: It's in those little moments that the most about a person is revealed. A collection of drabbles circulating around WordGirl and her world.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi all! I am baaaaack XD, this time with a new sort-of multichapter that could go in two directions: more chapters, or stop after three^^.**

**Ahem:**

**I have so many ideas running around in my head that all have to do with WordGirl that I ended up writing a whole bunch of drabbles about their universe. These are the first four of an awful lot. O.O They have no real relevance to anything, so if I kill off a character in one drabble and they show up in another, don't take their death to heart –it's just a possible end, but these all take place at different times and with different characters, so anything could happen.*evil grin* If anyone would like to take one of these drabbles and make a story or something off it, feel free –but you need to ask me first. Then you can have at it and I won't say anything^^.**

**I hope you enjoy! :)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own WordGirl. Duh. XD**

_**-x-x-x-x-**_

"Now Becky, let's try this again. Close your eyes and lift off like –yes, just like that!" Bob claps his hands together happily, his words of encouragement drowned in squeaks and squeals no one but this little girl can understand.

"Did I do it…?" Comes the hesitant reply from several feet above the monkey; he nods, but at the realization that his charge still has her eyes screwed shut, he squeaks again: "Yes, excellent work Becky! You're almost as high as the bookshelf! Now open your eyes."

"No." The four-year-old says nervously, her pink lips pursed in concentration. "What if I fall? That might hurt a little…" she clenches her chubby fists even tighter and rolls backwards in the air slightly. Bob sighs.

"You won't be hurt. I'm here to catch you if you fall, but you have to see where you are in order to know if you've progressed, right?" The monkey says patiently, and opens his arms wide to reassure her. "Now how about reciting some definitions? That always seems to help you focus."

Becky smiles tightly, sensing her companion's comforting presence beneath her and feeling security flood her curled form; involuntarily she suddenly dips , but with an instinct she didn't know she had the little alien regains her balance, muttering definitions to herself to calm her racing, fearful heart.

"Maladroit: ineffective or bungling. Laborious: needing effort. Notorious: famous for something bad…" the words jumble together into a rushing stream of terms, spilt from between lips dry with anxiety and strung together so that Bob, who is smiling at the child with unmistakable humor and pride, can barely separate the words from their meanings.

"Frivolous: not worth taking seriously. Susurration: murmur. Linguistic- Hey Bob, how am I doing?" Becky yelps breathlessly, breaking her new round of definitions in order to glance down at her teacher. "Am I any higher?"

Bob claps again and squeaks joyfully at the innocent, overalls-clad girl floating comfortably above him, her eyes now wide open with surprise and excitement.

"Yes, Becky!" he cheers. "Way higher than before!"

'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'

Her eyes are wide, glittering with fear and pain. Hands grasp at what she cannot see, the slender, bloodied fingers stretched out beyond her frail form as though anyone will help. As though anyone who is not huddled among the wreckage of her city will come forth and offer the assistance she so desperately needs.

"No…" she chokes out, tears pooling at the edges of her pained eyes and blurring her scorched vision with the salty droplets; it overflows so quickly and slithers over her burned cheeks that no matter how fast she raises her hand to brush them away and hide the choking emotions more arise from the depths of her body to take their place. Suddenly she is sobbing incessantly, dropping back to her bruised knees in order to clasp the limp form of her best friend close to her –as though the sensation of her heaving chest and racing heart will be enough to revive the fragile body pressed to the star they once spent an entire night tracing out on paper and fabric.

_Why did you leave me now? _She asks mentally with a hoarse gulp for air. _Not when I need you most. Not when we're in the middle of this battle… not now!_

But there is no response from her friend, only the terrible sensation of the last dregs of warmth slipping from the body and dissipating in the fiery air.

Then nothing.

'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'

"How can you _eat _that stuff?" I asked quietly, pinching my nose in disgust and leaning away as Huggy reached for yet another lump of "food." "I mean, it's so _gross_. And it smells like something died in your lunch."

Huggy shrugged at me, squeaking nonchalantly and digging his teeth into a brown, chunky object that vaguely resembled a cross between a toothpaste bottle and an old sock. A burp emanated from the satisfied monkey as it slipped into his gigantic maw, and he paused to savor the taste before delving back into the reeking carton. My dad looked pleased.

"Well, it's nice to know that someone besides Bob appreciates the taste of Beans A La Botsford. Man, look at him go!"

I didn't bother, just cast my gaze down to the tiled floor of the grocery store and swallowed the gagging sensation in the back of my throat. Huggy's contented slurps and belches were more than enough.

'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'

It's sitting there, taunting him. So beautiful, glittering with the golden light of an angel and blinding him; drool slips unchecked out of his mouth, and it drips onto the floor to form a puddle he doesn't even notice. He's only focused on the object in front of him, the pure loveliness of it casting a shadow over all else nearby.

He begins to stagger towards it, his head spinning with desire, his footsteps heavy and loud; they resound in the suddenly empty room like a pile of books dropped onto a table, over and over and over. His fingers reach for it, clutching, grasping-

"Don't even think about it, Chuck!" comes WordGirl's voice, angry and tense; a sudden weight on his arm snaps him out of his trance, and with an irritated cry he turns to screech at the superhero.

"No, Huggy," she says calmly, swinging him up and looping an arm about his waist. "You can't have that sandwich –Chuck's just trying to trick you."

But it's still so amazing…

_**-x-x-x-x-**_

**Tah-dah! In case ya didn't notice, these all featured Huggy, who I love and feel doesn't get enough attention 'round here^^. Not all of the drabbles will be themed, though –this chappie just worked out like that. XD**

**So please, please, **_**please**_** review! I'd be incredibly grateful.**

**Thanks all! :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**I have returned, with an update! (Not sure why else I would post something on here… XD) This collection of drabbles isn't my best, and I don't think I like them as much as I could. :/ I rewrote two out of four, thank you 1000goldpipes for your advice! ^_~**

**I hope you enjoy! :)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own WordGirl. Stupid company won't let me buy it, either… -_-**

_**-x-x-x-x-**_

Another crash resounds behind him, rocking the pavement and sending panicked citizens to their knees; he spins about at the sound, unable to look away from the sight of the superhero staggering about amidst smoking rubble. Her eyes are wide and crazed, the dark pools that once held simple, easily understood emotions now a vortex of unrivaled pain and choking, smothering, untamed power. The Lexonite is strapped to her throat, and it glows against her blood-smudged skin like a deadly, red flame of terror; as he watches, biting back a cry, a shudder passes through the girl, racking her slim form with such rippling pain that it is visibly all she can do to remain upright. Those lovely dark eyes, now red and wet about the edges, flash a sickly gold.

It's too late, he can see it in every broken cry that leaves her bloodied mouth, every angry toss of a windowpane to the pavement, every new fire flickering to life.

And yet he can't give up. Not yet.

'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'

"Huggy, would you help me?" I ask, staggering by with another box of rays. "We've got a lot to move in here…"

Huggyface glances up from his popcorn and squeaks assent, hurrying over to hold the glass case door open for me.

"Thanks." With a grin at him I kneel beside the shiny glass and reach for the nearest ray. It's heavy in my hands, the feeling more like a gun than a ray –the slick, gleaming metal and thick trigger only help induce the sensation that I'm holding a deadly weapon rather than a turn-things-into-cheese object. I feel a little shudder run through me at the touch of the chilly item, and with a sharp gasp I quickly place it in the box at my feet, adjusting it as quickly as I can so as to avoid touching the ray again. Thank goodness for my gloves…

Huggy looks concerned at my haste, reaching out a hand to pat my shoulder reassuringly.

"You know they've been deactivated," he squeaks gently. "We do that to all of the weapons we keep."

I turn my gaze to him and smile.

"Yes, I know," I say quietly, brushing the next ray with a tentative finger. "I know."

'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'

She glances down at the tiled floor, her shiny shoes now slightly glossier with the single tear she lets drop.

"You know Victoria, if you had just kept your eyes on the prize this wouldn't have happened," her mother snaps coldly, glaring at the last winner as he skips out the door, clutching an Emmy award close to his chest. "You weren't dedicated enough."

Her father nods in agreement, and Victoria cowers slightly under his disappointed gaze. "I don't know what we're going to do with you, Victoria. If you're not one hundred percent dedicated to being the best, you must not _be _a Best. We'll have to work harder…" his tone is as emotionless as ice when he speaks, and Victoria dares not reply, or even look up. _I won't let them hypnotize me, I won't, I won't! _She cries mentally, as the combined glares of her parents resound in the now-empty trophy room.

"Look at me," comes the command, but Victoria stares determinedly at her shoes. _I will not, I will not…_

"Victoria!"

_I will not…_

"Victoria Best, look at me this instant and apologize for you behavior!"

_I… will…_

Her head rises slowly, teeth biting down hard on her lip. "I… I'm…"

The glow envelops her as soon as their eyes meet, and suddenly everything is bathed in a deadly red glow. Victoria's frantic face goes slack.

"I am sorry…"

'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'

They were so close, mere inches apart on the cramped bench so that all Tobey could do was hope that she would close the distance before he did so on impulse.

The thick, heavy silence that he always expected whenever they ran out of banter had long since enveloped them in its thick folds, nearly smothering the boy genius as he stared determinedly at his lap, refusing to turn and meet WordGirl's gaze; he could feel her eyes upon him, snatching glimpses of his flushed, embarrassed face when she thought he wasn't looking. Her expression was unfathomable from his own hasty glances, the deep pools that had long ago sucked him in swirling with a mix of emotions he dared not name. Tobey swallowed, his throat hoarse with the heavy breaths he kept drawing to clear his spinning head.

_Don't do anything stupid_, he told himself severely. _Don't do anything you'll regret…_

The silence was pressing down on his shoulders, thick and choking like a fluffy comforter in the middle of an August day. The world was muffled, narrowed down to just the two kids, crammed together on a rickety park bench and awaiting Huggy's return; the watery sun beat down upon their heads, far hotter than the Tobey would have expected –but then again, everything seemed to be different today. He swallowed again, his arms loosening as he did so and stretching from his sides as slowly as he could make them. His heart raced beneath the brightly colored vest, thumping as if he had just run a marathon, but still he let his fingers trail out along the flaky paint; WordGirl did not move.

_Don't do anything you'll regret…_

And then suddenly her hand was in his, fingers interlaced so perfectly that in the midst of his shock Tobey wondered how this had never happened before –everything fit.

A sharp gasp echoed from his side, and with a little wince Tobey turned his head slightly so as to see WordGirl's reaction.

She looked as though even a gentle breeze could knock her over, forget a feather, and with a slightly opened mouth she lifted her eyes from their interlocked hands to Tobey's nervous smile, then back to the bench,

A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, and for the first time in their long and unusual history Tobey saw WordGirl blush.

_**-x-x-x-x-**_

**That's all for now! I probably won't be able to update for a while, but another chapter is definitely on its way! Please review, **_**please**_**! Thank you! :)**

**Oh yeah, and Happy Easter! XD**


	3. Chapter 3

**Haha, I'm back everyone! Here are the next four drabbles, if you find the third one super fluffy and OOC please forgive me –I was in dire need of fluff, and the way it turned out was a little Just pretend they're older in it!XD**

**Anywho, I hope you enjoy, it's getting late here so if ya find any mistakes, I'm sorry in advance.**

**Otherwise, enjoy! :)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own WordGirl, else we'd have a new episode aired every week and the she would have visited Lexicon a **_**long **_**time ago.**

_**-x-x-x-x-**_

"I've never done this before," she whispers, tugging her gloves onto her shaking hands with fingers that fumble far too much for her liking. "What if I mess it up?"

Huggyface smiles widely at her, with a grin that eases the fluttering butterflies for a brief moment while he reassures the anxious girl.

"Don't worry about it," he squeaks gently, pulling at his own tight, blue sleeves. "You're WordGirl, remember? You're a superhero."

The girl bites her lip, swallowing a little cry. "But this is my big chance, Huggy! I-if it goes wrong, what then?" Her voice is tight with frayed emotion.

"It _won't _go wrong," Huggy says firmly, and his confident expression soothes her. For a moment.

"But…I don't know how to be a superhero," she says quietly, glancing out the window in the direction of the chaos; the screams of the citizens resound in her ears in a cacophony of panicked voices, their shrill cries rocking in her head. She takes a deep breath, steadying herself despite the far-off screams, and the rest of the sentence only sounds in her head.

_I don't think I _can_ be a superhero._

"I am WordGirl," she says instead, repeating the name to herself like a sort of mantra. "I am WordGirl, I am a hero. I am WordGirl…"

Huggy reaches up, and she takes his hand as with a shaky, self-conscious "Word Up!" the twosome slip though the window, sliding along the sill and out into the day.

Showtime.

'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'

The moments are fleeting now, like the fluttering hints of butterflies; you can see them in all their glory if you remain silent and still, but should you move and attempt to touch their feathery sides they're gone in a heartbeat, as though they've never been.

So it is with him. Sometimes, although there was a point when it happened much more often, she can still catch the glimpses of her lost friend, huddled fearfully behind the ghostly pale face and insane crimson eyes, begging for release. Sometimes, when the mop of shaggy white hair is flung aside in the midst of a cackling evil laugh, she can glance up from her fighting stance and see those brown eyebrows, still dark despite the new pallid, colorless hue that's poured into his body; his bloodied eyes fade for a second and there are the dark ones of a friend she once turned to for advice on his now-comrades, and they can see her as she really is.

For an instant, she is no longer the enemy.

The moments used to come so much more often, when she could still plead with the struggling professor and see him react, see him try to speak to her before melting back behind that eerie smile. And every time it happened, she felt that terrible gut wrench at the knowledge that she could not help in any way, aside from begging, "_Please Doc, fight it! Please!" _and cutting him the slack she never showed any other villain. The fact that her friend, who she knew wanted so desperately to triumph, would have to face it on his own was almost too much for her to bear.

But not as much as the fact that he's losing the battle.

Or that he may already have lost.

'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'

I swallow hard, as he leans closer and reaches over my shoulder to snag the dictionary near my head. His breath is warm on the back of my neck.

"You know, these dictionaries are really valuable," Tobey mutters in my ear, and I weakly attempt to smother that delightfully forbidden tingle as it creeps up my spine and entwines itself around my pounding heart. "You should be careful." His voice is quiet and smooth, the accent blending into the silence surrounding us like leaves in the wind. I close my eyes for a second at the sound of his silky voice, and I can feel the warnings echoing in the back of my head fade into nothingness as I reply in an equally soft voice.

"Then why are you here, looking for a priceless book? Tobey, you know stealing from a library is rather foolish." My heart is racing in my chest, the star across my front rising slightly at the loudness of it. He just grasps the book and begins to tug it from its snug nook between two other dictionaries from different time periods, and again the sly voice sounds in my ear.

"Is the idea offensive to you, superhero?"

I'm trembling slightly now at his closeness, and turn a little to meet his gaze –with a staggering jolt I blink at the unexpected sensation of our touching noses. Tobey grins a little.

"O-of course," I mutter hoarsely, my eyes fluttering despite my internal muffled protests. "It's not a very good crime for an up-and-coming villain. I thought you of all people would know that."

Tobey's dark eyes take on that look I recognize from years of battles, the cross between love and hate that he can never seem to be rid of. With an unexpected blush he abruptly leans in, and suddenly our noses aren't really brushing anymore. I can feel his warm breath on my mouth now, feel my heart thump wildly and my hands shake behind my back. _Oh no_, I think, the back of my head screaming at me to back away and hit him, _I can't let him do it, I can't…_

"T-this is a library," I murmur, as Tobey pulls the book completely off the shelf and clasps it lightly between two pale hands; he shrugs, and through the swirling haze of confusion and embarrassment I can see the wry smile twisting his lips widen a little.

"I know." He mutters in reply, and then suddenly the miniscule gap between us is closed as though it had never been.

I don't pull away.

'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'

"Who are _you_?" The Butcher's expression registered one of confusion and minor annoyance, a rare occurrence for him. She scowled angrily, and I muffled a grin at her irritation.

"What do you mean, _who are you_?" WordGirl cried exasperatedly, throwing up her hands; The Butcher's eyebrow rose a little at that, but his face was still twisted in puzzlement.

"Look, I'm WordGirl! Can't you tell?" She added as a silence dropped upon the three of us. "I'm the only superhero in this city, Butcher!"

The Butcher rubbed his free hand over his unshaven face and narrowed his eyes slightly. "I dunno," he replied. "You sorta reesamamble WordGirl, what with the star and the hairy sidekick. But how do I know it's really you?"

WordGirl sighed angrily. "It _is _me, Butcher. I just changed outfits for the day. And the word is resemble, not reesamamble."

The Butcher relaxed a little, but still scrutinized her as she continued with her explanation. I blinked up at her. She _did _look a little different, I guess…

"Okay, Eileen The Birthday Girl chucked me in a gigantic garbage can, and I didn't have time to wash my suit because I had another robbery to stop almost immediately afterwards. So I put on this blue one for now –my regular one will be clean soon, don't worry." Her voice was taut with annoyance; people had been perplexed about her identity all day, even though the only difference between her outfits was the color of the suit –even _I _was a little afraid to approach her by this point.

The Butcher looked relieved, and at long last the wrinkle of suspicion on his face smoothed out. He grinned widely.

"Great then!" he said cheerfully, hoisting the bag of jewels onto his shoulder. "You had me worried for a moment, I thought you were someone else."

WordGirl calmed down a little at his words, a conversational smile tugging at her lips. "Good," she said. "So can we get this battle going, already?"

Our nemesis nodded and raised his hands. "Sure thing! _Pastrami attack!"_

Ah well. It was almost lunchtime, anyways.

_**-x-x-x-x-**_

**That's all, I s'pose^^! I was considering ending this story at three chapters, but now that three chapters have been completed and I've still got lots o' ideas, I might continue it. What do you think? Please let me know! :)**

**And **_**please please please **_**review, I'd really appreciate it!**

**Thanks everyone! :) **


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello, I'm back! :D People seem to think I should continue this, so by unanimous vote I've decided that this drabble story shall continue! I'm also working on another story, not sure when I'll post it but hopefully it will be soon –keep an eye out for it! ^_~**

**Anywho, these drabbles certainly aren't my best, but please overlook that this time; it's **_**really **_**late here, and I'm exhausted. Thanks! :)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own WordGirl. If they'd just let me help a little, the episodes would be dished out much faster…!**

_**-x-x-x-x-**_

"Okay, so maybe this one won't work," I mutter, crumpling the paper in my fist and tossing it over my shoulder; Bob squeaks reproachfully as it bounces off the edge of my wastebasket and topples to the floor, but I'm too busy scribbling on a fresh sheet of notebook paper to care very much.

"Um… how about this one! We need to get away from a magician's show while we're the volunteers up on stage. I say, 'Mr. Magician, Bob is a little scared of rabbits coming out of hats, can we go sit down?' And then we escape while everyone is-"

Bob raises an eyebrow.

"What?" I ask. "I need to practice my excuses, they've been getting worse and worse. I told Dad we had to go get some hair gel for a school project yesterday when Two Brains was on the loose, and he offered to call Miss Davis and ask what kind!" With another sigh I crush the lined paper into my hand, my super strength mushing it into a yucky pulp, and chuck it angrily at the wall in front of me; we both watch in silence as it smashes into the paint and hangs there like a dripping mess of blue, white, and red clay.

"Drat." I mutter. Bob shrugs apologetically, and with a comforting squeak shoves another piece of paper in front of me.

"Gotta keep trying, I suppose," I grumble, and reach for my Pretty Princess pencil again. "So let's say that we're trapped in a bank vault…"

Bob rolls his eyes.

'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'

There come the nights when all she wants to do is go home.

They don't come often; the occurrences have become less and less frequent as she grows older, as he expected would happen as she became more involved in this planet's daily life. Normally she's so swamped with everyday things –saving citizens, crushing on a reporter, dealing with her brother– that most of the time it doesn't occur to her that this isn't her real home. That she's a native of another world.

But some nights it's different. Sometimes he'll awaken to the sound of her muttering to herself under the covers, where she thinks no one but her own powerful ears can hear her. She'll whisper the phrases he taught her –the ones only the two of them can understand, the little clicks and whistles that make up their old dialect sweet on her tongue and gentle on her throat; this silly English language has so many harsh noises that to once again hear Lexiconian is like cool water trickling down a dry throat –perfect and soothing.

Sometimes the phrases will string together, lilting into a little, haunting song that she hums beneath the downy comforters like a lullaby never truly comprehended. It will trail on and on and on in circles, as the words tangle themselves up into her tongue and thoughts until she can sing herself into a relaxed sleep.

And if her pillow is wet with salty tears as she slips into unconsciousness, at least she can rest assured that no one will notice in the morning.

Except him.

'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'

"Violet, um, can you tell what this is?" Becky asked nervously, as she added another splotch of paint to the mishmash of colors on her canvas. "I was aiming for an elephant, but I think I messed up the ears…"

Violet leaned over, her pale lips pursed in concentration as she studied the dripping painting; as she watched, a dribble of brown trickled down the bumpy canvas and slipped into the red paint cup. She smiled weakly.

"It's lovely, Becky," Violet said gently, as her best friend sadly observed the sloppy mess. "Is that the eye…?"

Becky looked hurt. "No. It's the trunk."

"Ummm… Ah yes, I can see it now!"

Her friend just looked at her, an eyebrow raised high in skepticism, and all Violet could do was shrug apologetically, and pat her slumped shoulder.

"Cheer up, Becky!" she said, stepping a little in front of her own piece so as to hide any betraying hints of the still life she was working on. "You just need to practice a little more! Maybe you'll become an Abstract Expressionist or something! You never know."

Becky smiled a little wider at her comforting words, and reached forward to pick up her drying brush.

"Maybe you're right, Violet," she said slowly, although her voice still echoed with doubt. "Abstract is a good word for it…"

More like an excuse, but at least it had a term now.

'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'

No one ever asks about the cage. It's as though it never existed, never imprisoned the city's famed superhero and her sidekick with such ease. And that's the way she likes it.

It sits in the handyman's basement, glowing in the darkness of the cluttered room like a crimson beacon and occasionally letting off sparks that sputter into nonexistence within moments; the bars are still thick despite these unusual outbursts, though, and should they ever be needed to hold, say, a superhero, they're ready for the job.

Funny, how such a deadly weapon can be so easily forgotten.

And how easily it can be found again.

_**-x-x-x-x-**_

**Tah-Dah! Please read and review, I'd appreciate it so much!**

**Thank you everyone! :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello, everyone! I updated this story at last, and for some reason these drabbles are relatively lighthearted; I think it's 'cause I ended up making a bunch of super sad/creepy drabbles the other day, and together they made this chapter so morbid that I decided to only leave one in and keep this one happy –no promises about the next, though! If that doesn't incite apprehension about the next chapter, I don't know what to say… XD**

**Disclaimer: I do not own WordGirl, which seriously **_**stinks**_**. **

_**-x-x-x-x-**_

Tobey was eight years old when he first laid eyes on her.

They were at the supermarket, his mother quietly reading the ingredients on the label of a Snappy Snaps box and gripping his chubby hand tightly between her fingers; the boy had a habit of running off to play with the cans of baked beans, claiming they destroyed the teetering piles of food with a satisfying bang –and everything he broke, Mrs. McCallister had to pay for.

With a little sigh of annoyance, Tobey shoved his overlarge glasses farther up along his nose and glanced around the grocery store, observing with distaste the shoppers' simple-minded views and lack of interest in anything but themselves. _They're no fun_, he thought irritably, as a yawn worked its way to his mouth and claimed his lips for a second, _Nobody is. People need excitement, something to really get-_

He stopped, the petulant complaints echoing in his head screeching to a halt as he stared ahead in surprise.

A girl was standing not ten feet from him, where no one had been a mere millisecond before.

Tobey frowned in confusion, and rubbed at his eyes under his glasses to make sure he saw correctly.

But there was no missing this girl, what with her bright red, skintight outfit, dark boots and gloves, and small creature –was that a _monkey?_- crouched at her side and glancing around the store hungrily.

Oh yeah, and the minor fact that she was the prettiest thing Tobey had ever laid eyes on.

"Okay, okay, let's try and get this straight," she was saying, hands raised defensively as she interrogated the grocery store manager. "I'm looking for a man about your height, skinny, wearing a silken blue cape, and carrying a big bag of donuts. Have you seen him?"

The manager grinned, "Say kid, I like your spunk. How'd you like to sell Snappy Snaps?"

The girl scowled. "No, I don't want to work here," she said irritably, " I want to know if you've seen a-"

"Oh that guy? Yeah, he was in here a few minutes ago, asking about our bakery goods… how about selling those instead?"

"No, I'm fine. I'm only eight, how could I…"

Tobey could feel his face heat up with an unusual blush as he watched the girl question the grocery store manager, dark cropped bangs fluttering into her eyes and forcing her to blow them away from her forehead with a well-placed huff.

_Who is she…? _He thought vaguely, staring at the stranger. _I've never seen her before…_

And in that fleeting moment, before he even completely grasped that it had happened, Tobey fell head over heels for the startlingly pretty, intelligent girl with the strange monkey friend.

The only thing was, how could he get her attention…?

'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'

"You let him fall."

Their voices are cold and harsh, closed against me for the first time in my life. Their faces are hard, too; once adoring eyes have gone dull, and I can feel my heart begin to pick up speed as they move forward to surround me.

"No, you don't understand… so many people were knocked off the building… I couldn't catch everyone…" I can feel the tears welling up in my eyes, but I can't let them fall. There's no mercy anymore.

"You're the superhero, though!" one ex-fan snaps, stepping even closer and scowling at me. "You're supposed to save the day, and you didn't. Now he's _dead_."

Dead. The word echoes in my head, like dry leaves on an empty street. Dead. The innocent citizen is dead. I killed him.

"It was an accident!" I plead, brushing a strand of hair, thin with excess ash, from my grimy forehead. "I couldn't get him in time. It was a huge building, and I couldn't see-"

There's no hope. Anything I say won't sway them.

_I'm only twelve, _is all I can think as the angered and suddenly eerie citizens close in around me, silent and frightening as ghosts. _I'm only twelve…_

I guess age has nothing to do with it this time around.

'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'

"No, Becky, not like that," Bob says kindly, tossing the empty banana peel to the ground below with a grin. "Your footing is off."

Becky glances up as she floats back down to the grass. "But what else can I _do_, Bob? I'm _flying_, for heaven's sake! Footing doesn't matter."

Bob shakes a sticky finger. "Is too," he squeaks, "What if a villain reaches up and grabs your foot? You need to be prepared."

"But this practice is boring. Can't we go get that new dictionary on sale at the bookstore? It's a limited edition!" Becky's voice is pleading and hopeful, the eagerness at the idea of new words claiming all her attention. "We can do this later."

Bob shakes his head. "No. Not until you get this right; you won't regret it…!"

"I think I already do," Becky mutters, leaping up into the air once more and flipping her new cape back over her shoulder. "My legs are cramping from keeping them so high…"

"Come on, Becky, you can do it! Pretend you're taking down a huge criminal that… say… flings meat at people! How are you going to dodge attacks of meat if your legs are dangling down like that?"

"I won't _have _to. I'm a superhero!"

Bob smothers a laugh at the young girl's confidence, watching as she almost unconsciously reconfigures her position into the one he's been trying to teach her for three weeks now.

"Besides, what kind of villain throws meat at people?" Becky asks slowly, a smile spreading across her flushed cheeks as she notices her success. "That's preposterous!"

The monkey –tutor right now- leans back against the tree trunk. "You'd be surprised."

'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'

_I wonder if Lexiconian clouds look like the ones here_, she thinks quietly, forgetting for a moment that she and Violet are supposed to be working on a book report. _Are they bright purple and cube-shaped? Orange and triangular? Rainbow and squiggly?_

She grins up at her own blue sky. _Or are they nonexistent? Do people on Lexicon even know what clouds _are_?_

"I bet they'd ask me lots of questions about Earth…" she breathes, blinking in surprise as she realizes that the last thought actually left her lips. Violet glances up from the sea of papers.

"Yes, Becky? Did you say something?"

Becky blushes in embarrassment. "Uh no, just thinking out loud!" she says uncomfortably. "Sorry Violet."

Her friend smiles gently. "It's fine, Becky. I'm almost done anyways with my work. How's yours coming along?"

Becky looks down at her own mound of papers, noting with a jolt of fear the little Lexiconian phrases littering the margins.

"Uh…"

_**-x-x-x-x-**_

**Tah-dah!**

**Quick Note: In the first drabble, the villain WordGirl describes doesn't actually exist –my view is that the big main villains showed up when she was ten; the years leading up to that consisted of random, easily defeated baddies. :) Oh yeah, and if Becky seems OOC in the last drabble, it's because I made her like that –again, my view is that she's more creative when it comes to thinking about her home planet, since she misses it a lot. Or at least, that's what I think. XD**

**K, I'll shut up now. Thanks for reading, and please, please review! I'd appreciate it to no end! :D **


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello, here I am again with a new chapter of drabbles! They definitely aren't my best, and since I just couldn't deal with morbidity **_**only**_**, I stuck in some innocent bits. :D**

**I hope you enjoy! :) **

**Book/Author Disclaimer: I own none of the books or authors mentioned in the third drabble. At ALL.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own WordGirl. The writers could do well to read the Fanfictions for it, though –some of the stories would make **_**excellent **_**episodes! :D**

_**-x-x-x-x-**_

"WordGirl?" Huggy squeaks nervously, as he watches her stagger forward into the streetlight. "Are you all right?"

The girl smiles coldly at his words, her eyes glittering with a frightening, crazed glow.

"Yes, Huggyface. Better than I've ever been. Why?" Her words are slightly slurred, laced with a hissing echo that scares the monkey almost more than the way she lurches forward sloppily, like a poorly controlled puppet. He swallows fearfully.

"You just seem a little… odd."

WordGirl blinks groggily. "Odd? I feel fine, I told you," she says quietly, wobbling slightly even as she comes to a standstill. "I feel so much better, better than I ever thought I could feel…"

Huggy shivers, even though the night is warm and calm. "No…" he replies slowly, watching his friend rock slowly back and forth. "I don't think you're all right. Come on, I'll take you home…" he reaches kindly for her hand, but she jerks it away roughly.

"Don't touch me!"

The streetlight casts darkening shadows upon her slender, hunched form, her body visibly trembling as though racked with a torturous poison. And as he watches quizzically, a thought begins to build in his head –a crazy, irrational thought that gains plausibility even as the girl straightens a little and smiles eerily again.

"WordGirl…" he starts, backing away bit by bit. "What's on your neck…?"

His friend glances up, and even the shadows of the night can't hide the glowing Lexonite strapped tightly to her throat. "Nothing!" she hisses, her eyes beginning to glow a bloody, terrifying crimson. "It's nothing at all!"

Huggyface reels back, his heart racing underneath his lightning bolt and pumping loudly in his ears. "I knew it!" he whispers. "I knew something was wrong. WordGirl, take it off. _Take that thing off_."

But it's too late. She shudders again, as her reddening gaze alights blurrily once again upon the monkey's form, glowing the same color as the Lexonite.

"No," she breathes icily. "It's mine."

And then the windows in the next door shop explode outward.

'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'

"Hey Violet," Becky calls hopefully, tugging at her friend's sleeve like an eager little kid. "Want to come over and watch the new Pretty Princess episode? I've got lots of snacks!"

Violet turns at her words, and for a moment an excited light glints in her soft eyes; a grin dances about her lips, tugging at the corners of her mouth as her thoughts take on the cheerful prospect of after-school fun.

"Yeah, I'd love to, Becky! I hope Bob-" Suddenly she stops, and her head slowly droops in visible disappointment. Becky cocks her head.

"What is it, Violet?" she asks, but her heart is already sinking –the inevitable words are echoing about her head, as she knew they would.

Violet sighs, even as a lively blush dusts her pale cheeks. "I'm so sorry, Becky," she says gently, and places a delicate hand on her friend's arm. "I have to go meet Scoops…"

Becky's heart clenches painfully. Of course. Scoops.

"…Maybe another time, though?" the girl continues expectantly, patting Becky's sleeve. "I know I couldn't come last time…"

_Or the time before that. Or the time before that._

"…but I promise we'll get together soon. I promise."

Becky swallows a scream. "Unicorn promise?" she asks weakly, using the sacred oath the two created back when they were six. Violet smiles.

"Unicorn promise." And with that she withdraws her hand from Becky's arm, tucking her books under her arm and picking up her pace.

"Bye!" she calls happily over her shoulder, as Becky slows to a lonely halt. "I'll see you tomorrow!"

Becky waves kindly after her, waiting until Violet rounds the bend to let the little dry sob of pain and jealousy slip past her lips and vanish into the chill air.

'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'

"And who is this?" asks the librarian suspiciously, leaning over the top of the desk to inspect the little girl grinning widely up at her. Mr. Botsford chuckles.

"This is Becky, my daughter. She just realized that there's such a thing as a library, and she's very eager to find some new books to read. She's gone through every readable thing in the house. Several times."

Becky waves cheerfully, continuing her father's explanation in surprisingly perfect English.

"I'm four-and-a-half," she announces knowingly, as she reaches up to grasp the edge of the desk in two chubby hands. "And I _really _need something to read. Have you got any suggestions?"

The librarian smiles at the child's eagerness, reaching into the newly returned novels, books, and volumes teetering on her right for a simple picture book.

"Of course I do, Miss Becky," she laughs, and with another smile hands her the easiest book in the pile. "How about this one? It's called _Little Beaver and the Echo_, and it's very cute! I'm sure your daddy will help you figure out any really big words."

The look Becky delivers in return for the picture book is one of truly offended pride, quickly smothered by a weak smile and the words: "Thank you ma'am, but… you do have more books than _these_, right?"

The librarian blinks in surprise. "W-why yes, of course we do. But those books are for grown ups, and at your reading level I think-"

"-Well, I appreciate your offer, but I'm not really into these sorts of books," Becky interrupts, and replaces the slim paperback on the desk. The librarian blinks again. _What? This is her reading level…_

"What sort of books do you like then, Miss Becky?" she asks, intrigued despite herself. Becky grins.

"Well, I found a copy of _Pride and Prejudice _in my mom's room, and it was really good so I was wondering if you had any more by Jane Austen…" the girl says seriously, tugging at her father's sleeve for backup. Mr. Botsford chuckles at the librarian's floored expression.

"It's true," he says with a smile. "Becky's very gifted for her age. Especially when it comes to reading."

The librarian shakes her head slightly in shock, observing with disbelief the wide-eyed, skinny girl with the wide smile lighting up her face.

"I-I see…" she says, flustered. "H-has she ever heard of Charles Dickens?"

'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'

There's that terrible liquid again, quick to spread and crimson as my outfit; it pools over his chest faster than spilled wine, and even as I tear fabric from my scorched cape and press it to the wound I know nothing is going to work.

"No!" I sob, as the villain's eyes begin to glaze over, and his chest starts to slow its labored heaves. "No, Two Brains! No, Doc… you know better than to keep deadly rays lying around in your lab…"

The tears are coming faster now, pouring from my eyes in a salty stream and dripping onto the bloodied lab coat; but I can't stop them, can't wipe them away and keep them from pooling in my old enemy's wound –my hands are too wet and sticky with blood to keep them at bay.

"Please…" I whisper, my blurred vision clearing for only the slightest moment as Two Brains smiles weakly at me. "Please, Doc. You were my _friend…_"

But even as I choke the words through my torrent of tears, his eyes freeze in their place, and his body slowly, oh so slowly, loosens the tightened muscles and slumps backwards. He sags, wilted like a beaten rose, to the cold concrete ground, and I slowly loosen my pressure on the makeshift rag at the terrible realization that it's no longer needed.

"I was going to change you back…" I murmur to the limp form, shakily returning my bloodied gloves to my lap. "I had a plan to save you from yourself…"

It doesn't matter any more, though, and I know it. No plan can help him now.

_**-x-x-x-x-**_

**Thanks for reading, if you'd review I'd appreciate it **_**so **_**much!**

**Thanks, everyone! :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hi, all! I'm back, with an update! Dun dun duuuuun…XD These drabbles aren't my best, but it's **_**really **_**late here so I'm sorry in advance for any mistakes. Thank you!**

**Disclaimer: Me? Own WordGirl? Nah. I will eventually, though…XD**

_**-x-x-x-x-**_

Sometimes I bring out the helmet, normally when no one's around and I can think straight. So, in other words, not often.

Not often at all.

And when I do pull it from its hiding place in my closet, lift it up to the lamplight and gaze at the cracks riddling its faded surface, I can feel those silly tears come rushing to the front of my eyes. They pool on my eyelashes like water from a broken fountain, uneven and irregular, and before I know it they've overflowed their boundaries and trickle sadly down my cheeks; they drip off my trembling chin and splash into the surface of the old helmet, melancholy and forgotten by everyone but me, and suddenly all I want to do is sob.

The helmet feels ancient now, heavy yet fragile in my shaking hands; the once-bright surface has been dulled with time and disuse, the marks of forgotten battles softened to gentle ruts and dips. The dark red lining along the brim is scratched, too, and when I run my fingers over it and close my eyes I can almost pretend the slits and scuffs are miniature mountains. Almost.

The outfit that went along with the helmet has been lost for years, tossed forlornly into the fire when it at long last came to me that I wasn't needed anymore.

That no one cared.

And yet the helmet remained, stuffed behind a shoebox of doodads from my elementary school days and waiting patiently for its time. Waiting for me to pick it up hastily, settle it onto my dark hair and shout, "Worrrd Up!" with a wide grin and an open hand ready for my sidekick to grab tightly.

It doesn't seem to realize that those days are long gone.

That they'll never come again.

When those thoughts hit me, I return the helmet to its place and shove an extra memory in front to smother the aching sobs.

'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'

"Lookit, Becky!" TJ shrieked suddenly, racing from the kitchen to the living room like a madman, and letting that obsessive expression gain conrtol of his face. "WordGirl's on TV!"

Becky glanced wearily up from her book just in time to catch a recent recording of herself, sitting nonchalantly in an unexpected interview and answering some of the silliest questions ever asked of her in her life.

"Ha, that was an interesting day," she muttered. TJ blinked in confusion.

"What?"

Becky panicked. "I-I mean, uh, that must have been an interesting day for WordGirl. You know, since she's a superhero and gets lots of attention…" she babbled, but TJ had already lost interest in his sister's rushed explanation; he was busy staring at the screen and grinning goofily.

"I wonder how much it'd cost to replace that monkey guy she works with…" he said dreamily, hugging his toy WordGirl doll to his chest. Becky grimaced.

Sometimes it was hard having your younger brother crush on you.

'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'

"You know…" I started softly, watching as Tobey fiddled with his newly created remote and adjusted the miniature earpiece atop his head. "If you just tried…"

Tobey glanced up at me from his mechanisms, his expression a mix of irritation and condescension. "What, Becky Botsford?" he snapped. "I'm trying to work some chaos here, if you hadn't already noticed."

For some reason, I could feel a blush heat up my cheeks as he glared at me. "I was just going to say that if you gave kindness a shot, WordGirl probably wouldn't be so inclined to hate you." My voice had never shaken like that before, but with a power I didn't know I had I forced it to strengthen and gain the usual coldness with which I spoke to the boy "genius."

He rolled his eyes. "Please, Becky," he said with a conceited chuckle, returning his gaze back to his bulky new remote. "What would you know about what WordGirl does and doesn't like?"

I scowled at him, my hands clenching into fists at his smug grin. "A lot more than you do, obviously," I snapped, and stalked off with an unusual anger boiling in my stomach.

Pity it didn't smother the butterflies.

'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'

_I don't belong here. I'm innocent. I don't belong here. I'm innocent..._

The mantra swirls in her head, bouncing against the walls of her skull and echoing in her ringing ears.

_I don't belong here. I'm innocent._

And she knows it's true. She didn't steal the dolls, nor did she blame another girl for the crime, nor did she lie to save herself from the police.

"_I'm _not the one with the bad rep sheet…" she mutters angrily, reaching for a weight. "I'm not the one with the temper issues and the birthday obsession and the cutesy demeanor. _I _don't steal."

She clenches the uncomfortable weight tightly in her gloved fist, ignoring the pinch of pain when the crushed metal of the bar digs into her palm, and lifts it up and down in an attempt to calm herself. But all she ends up with is a burning arm and the incredible urge to shout her innocence to the Warden. As if _that _could change anything.

"I'm innocent," the superhero whispers into her sleeve as the weight rises again to brush her bangs. "I'm innocent."

It's going to be a _long _eight hours 'til the trial.

_**-x-x-x-x-**_

**Tah-dah! Thanks for the deadline, keacdragon, and thank you all so much for reading this new chapter, even though these drabbles were unexpectedly short. So **_**please please please **_**review –feedback is appreciated to no end!**

**Thank you again! :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hi everyone! I'm back online, and I have a nice long update for you all!:)**

**These drabbles are certainly longer than I anticipated (though not necessarily good), and the first one has a rather choppy ending –I wasn't sure how to wrap it up, so please don't mention that^^. And the final one is a sort-of poem, I guess. Free verse or whatever. So it's meant to be written the way it is, I was trying out something new. And about the third one… Random OOC fluffy moment! I'm sorry, I couldn't help it!XD**

**I'm sorry in advance for any mistakes, and I hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own WordGirl in any way, form, or- no wait, that's a lie. I own a little clay toy of her… hmm…XD**

_**-x-x-x-x-**_

Becky cocked her head slightly, plopping down onto her knees beside the blonde girl.

"What are you doing?" she questioned brightly as she leaned around to see what the other child was so focused on. "I wanna see too!"

The kid glanced up at the sound of her voice, bright blue eyes meeting brown ones with the sparkle of excitement and apprehension.

"I'm drawing a picture for my momma," she said shyly, leaning back on her heels and biting her lip timidly; her hands fumbled with each other as she allowed Becky to lean in and take a look. "She likes my drawings."

Becky felt her brow furrow slightly in jealousy as she observed the detailed drawing that lay on the cement before her, neatly drawn and half colored so well that she mentally scrunched her shaky sketch of a flower into a ball and flung it into an imaginary fire.

"That's really good!" she exclaimed. "It's so detailed!"

The girl smiled a little, but her expression was one of utter bewilderment. "Detailed…?"

Becky grinned widely, her posture straightening at being the knowledgeable one. "When something is detailed," she started loftily, "it means it's got parts in it that were paid special attention to, often in artwork. Your picture is detailed because it has lots of little parts in it that are extra fancy and probably took you a while to do."

The other girl blinked as she processed the information, her hands fiddling with her wavy blonde hair as she thought hard.

"So then… you like this?" she asked hopefully. Becky nodded furiously.

"Yeah!" she cried. "I'm not good at drawing at all!"

The other child blushed. "Thank you," she said softly. "You're really smart."

"That's 'cause I'm a-" Becky stopped suddenly, her chubby hands flying to her mouth. The girl frowned in confusion.

"What?" she asked.

"-nothing," Becky replied quickly, Bob's words of warning swimming in her head and thundering up against her skull. "I'm Becky."

"I-I'm Violet," replied the blond girl jerkily, obviously puzzled by the sudden topic change. "I'm five-and-a-half."

Becky leaned back and stretched out her legs. "So am I!"

They both grinned. At least they had something in common.

'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'

She staggers forward into the dust, eyes wide and shocked as though her life is about to end –and maybe it is, in a way.

"It's gone." Her voice is thick, heavy with the resounding terror and loss she never thought would fill her. "My home is gone."

The gentle sensation of her best friend's hand on her arm doesn't register, nor does the gentle sigh that follows or the weight of his head on her shaking leg; she is numb to all but the scene before her, the remnants of what she never knew spread before her trembling body like a sea of leftover memories.

"I told you Lexicon would be different than you expected," he whispers, his voice choked. "But to have it destroyed…"

Her vision blurs as he speaks, the red, dusty ground and little shards of unfamiliar buildings almost completely smudged by salty tears.

_Do I even have a home anymore, then? _She wonders, as slowly the fingers of water trickle down her cheeks, leaving clean traces amidst the reddish-brown grit of this foreign planet. _Am I anyone anymore?_

"Where is everyone, then?" she asks softly, even though the answer is tickling the tip of her tongue and forcing more tears out past her eyelashes with the weight of the truth. "Maybe…?"

But all that comes from her sidekick is the sound of a cry catching in his throat.

_I am alone._

And then her quivering legs give way, and she tumbles to the ground in a rush of sobs and capes and dust.

_I am alone._

'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'

My world rocked as the robot hand collided with my chest, sweeping me carelessly off the rooftop and out into the air as though I were nothing but an irritating fly.

"Aaaaah!"

I couldn't smother the shriek as I tumbled helplessly through the air like an amateur acrobat; everything spun in wild circles around me, and I could hear the excited cries and squeals of passerby as I shot through the air above their heads.

Suddenly an incredible pain ripped through my body, a sensation I rarely felt given my super strength, and I knew I had slammed into a building at speeds probably inconceivable by the average human; another yell exploded from my mouth, this time one of utter pain, and I slithered down the side of a brick, cement, and glass building like a ragdoll.

It took everything I had to remain conscious, and when I collapsed in a bruised, battered, yelping pile in the dumpster at the bottom of the building, I knew the spots swimming in my vision weren't a good sign.

"Ow," I croaked weakly, struggling to clamber out of the messy trash with failing strength. "Tobey, I'm going to-"

"-not kill me, preferably."

I blinked sleepily at the sound of my enemy's voice, suddenly gentle and… was that concern I detected?

"I still might," I replied as I focused on his brightly patterned clothing, the glowing orange of his vest glaring at me at eye level; the metallic sheen of a robot palm and wrist extended out behind him –he must have been held aloft by one of his many metal menaces. "That was some hit."

Tobey swallowed hard as he leaned over into the dumpster where I sat, shoving junk aside and attempting to stand up in the sticky trash that had created a sort of nest about my crumpled form. "I know," he said quietly. "Do you want some help?"

I felt an unexpected blush claim my face, many terrible, forbidden thoughts running through my head as I bit my lip. "U-um…"

_Say no! _my conscience screamed. _You can get out of this yourself!_

But even as I started to shake my head in refusal and raise my hands for balance, I felt the firm sensation of Tobey's fingers around mine, tugging me up out of the dumpster and towards the rim of the container where I could get a good grip and push myself up and out.

I didn't look at him. My face was too red.

And like I was going to look him in the eye and let him see that I really wouldn't mind if he never loosened his hold on my hand.

'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'

WordGirl.

I am WordGirl.

Becky Botsford.

I am Becky Botsford.

I am both…right?

Even though they want my superhero form…

And sometimes I just want to be normal…

And there are times when I really want to just shove my helmet under my bed and push my outfit to the back of my closet…

I am both.

But what would happen if I chose one over the other?

What if I gave up being WordGirl?

Would the people prefer that? Would they rather that I left them in the end –superheroes aren't exactly common anymore.

Would they forget me?

Becky Botsford.

WordGirl.

Two identities.

Would they miss me if I chose only one?

_**-x-x-x-x-**_

**And that's it! **_**PLEASE **_**review, I would be so grateful!**

**Thank you, everyone!:)**


	9. Chapter 9

**I AM NOT DEAD! Well, not Some stuff was goin' on in my life that prevented me from getting online very much –but now I'm back! And all the new episodes (that have mysteriously stopped airing on my TV) have inspired me!**

**This collection of drabbles was built during the weeks of no activity; as a result, they're absolutely terrible, which isn't exactly a good startfor my "first chapter back", but it's what I have done so I won't be inactive any more, and I hope you'll just ignore their lameness and glaringly obvious OOC-ness. Please don't judge me too harshly –I'll keep working to become a better writer!**

**Ahh okay, I'll shut up now. I hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: OF COURSE I OWN WORDGIRL! It's just that no one _else_knows **

_**-x-x-x-x-**_

_Eeee-eeeee-eeeee-eeee-eeeee-_

"Gah!"

Becky's eyes whip open at the sound of the alarm, and the harsh echoes blast through her grogginess into her brain. She scowls.

With a deep, irritable sigh, the girl turns her head from her warm placement on the mattress, wincing as the comforter blanket slips slightly from her shoulders, and squints to read her bedside clock.

2:30 A.M.

"Oh my _gosh_!" she groans, and flings herself roughly back into the furrow of her mattress. "Can't they just wait until morning to steal stuff, like _normal_ villains?"

Still grumbling, Becky hoists herself upright with another wide yawn and a deep shiver as the blankets fully topple from her body, clutching at her pajama corners and sticking hopefully to her lower back.

"Bob!" she calls in the loudest whisper she can muster, rubbing at her eyes with numb fists in an attempt to clear her blurry vision. "Bob, come here!"

From the corner of the darkened room comes an indignant squeak, followed by a thump and a muffled yelp.

"Oh hush," Becky snaps, squinting into the heavy blackness as she almost throws herself from the bed, and stumbles weakly forward across her soft, grassy rug. "I hate it just as much as you do, but you don't have to be a drama queen about it."

The girl fumbles about the bedpost, resisting the urge to tumble back into the inviting cradle of blankets and warmth and _sleep_, and with a couple of angry swipes catches the flashlight dangling mockingly behind the post. She jerks it from its hiding place with another scowl and flips it on; slowly she lets the beam roam over to Bob's corner of the room, illuminating much of her unkempt junk before letting the glow alight on the toppled form of her friend, upside down on the rug with sheets wrapped round him like a mummy. He squeaks again at her, and continues to unwind himself from the confines of the blankets.

Becky rolls her eyes at him through the glare of the flashlight, pausing for a moment to wince as the alarm wails insistently in her ears, and turns abruptly away to search for shoes; she jerks two strap shoes over her sockless feet, kicking her slippers and flashlight to the side and snapping the buckles so loudly that for a moment she freezes, frightened by the thought of her parents catching them. The tense moment passes, though, and almost immediately Becky is back upright, yawning widely and hoisting a grumbling Bob up into her arms.

"R-r-r-eady?" she gasps through another tremendous yawn, as she staggers sleepily over to the window and hoists the glass panel up one-handed. Bob sighs by way of reply.

Without another word or final glance Becky steps up onto the sill and tumbles out into the chilly morning air, waiting until she is below her parent's window before whispering "Word Up!" and letting the bright golden glow envelope her body. The alarm is still screaming in her ears.

Sometimes super hearing can be a real pain…

'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'

Tobey didn't like to think that his father wouldn't come back.

He'd sit for hours when he was little, perched expectantly on the edge of the chilly stoop and staring at the corner of the street, as though any moment the familiar _put__put_of his father's car would fill the air –and he'd come chugging around the bend as though he had never left in the first place. And then Tobey would come running to meet him like usual, and be swept up in those big arms that smelled of gasoline and metal, and buried in that oil-stained shirt he loved so much.

"Sorry I left," his father would say cheerfully, lifting Tobey easily up onto his shoulders and fiddling with the child's chubby fingers as they grasped at his face. "I'm going to stay right here from now on though. Don't you worry!"

It never happened.

But that didn't stop Tobey from hoping.

'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'

Eileen was used to getting her way. So used, in fact, that to _not_get something she wanted _immediately_after she demanded it was like lighting a fuse –dangerous, foolish, and bound to lead to trouble.

The "destruction" kind of trouble.

So most often Eileen was indulged –when she wanted a new dress, she got a new dress, no questions asked. When she wanted the mayor to buy her birthday presents, he did so without a word of complaint. And if she just wanted attention –well, that was easily obtained.

But there was one thing that no matter how hard she tried, Eileen never got a firm grip on –the monkey sidekick of that awful little superhero. He was always by that girl's side, up in her arms, nestled in her shoulder, eating donuts at her feet; the only way to get to hold him was to kidnap him, which the furious Eileen attempted –several times.

He was just so _cute!_ Like a little baby the perfect size for coddling, the monkey almost screamed adorableness. It was such a pity that his human friend couldn't see that –she was such a goody-goody with no understanding of anything, the very essence of the word "nuisance". And she had such a good firm grip on her monkey sidekick that Eileen could never get a dress on him even if she tried.

It was a lucky thing, she often noted to herself when she wasn't smothered in sweets, that there was more than one "adowable" monkey in the city. It was good to have more than one option.

Maybe one day they'd all have a tea party together…

'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'

"Bec_ky_," Bob whined from the doorway, his face bearing an expression of utter irritation as he watched his best friend scrutinizing her reflection. "What are you doing? T.J. wants the bathroom now."

"I'll be right there, Bob…" Becky muttered. But she didn't move from her spot, just tilted her head to the side and continued staring at her own face, alight with the harsh glow of the bathroom lights. Suddenly, as though she couldn't bear to stare at herself any longer, the girl pushed back from the marble counter and ducked down to the drawers beneath the sink.

"Where does mom keep the… aha!"

With a triumphant grin, Becky pulled a small makeup case from one of the drawers and raised it high like a trophy. "Got it!"

Bob, however, stared at the bag in complete and utter shock –then turned his alarmed gaze upon Becky herself as she laid the bag on the counter and briskly unzipped it.

"Violet showed me how to do this a few times," she said, almost to herself, and dug her hand deep into the clattering mess of makeup equipment; after a moment her searching fingers drew out a small tube of eyeliner, which she quickly uncapped and raised confidently to her eyelids as though she had done it millions of times before.

"Would you tell T.J. I'll be a minute? There _is_another bathroom in this house," Becky called back to Bob, now almost completely focused on lining her eyes correctly. "This might take a little while…"

"Y-yes…" Bob murmured in reply, his stomach clenching uncomfortably as he watched her. "Sure."

"Thanks," Becky responded unconcernedly, completely oblivious to Bob's sad gaze; her attention was only on her reflection.

And so with newly slumped shoulders and an unexpected ache in his chest Bob turned from the doorway, and left his best friend to the task of growing up.

_**-x-x-x-x-**_

**Anyone else see Eileen going insane someday? Like Alice in Wonderland or something…XD And by the way, in the second drabble I wanted to note that in _my_mind, Tobey's dad took off when he was a little kid –too young to understand _why_, which is why the reason he left isn't mentioned. That also explains why Tobey's so out of character; my opinion is that he built up his character over the course of the time _after_his father left. *shrugs* I just have too many dark thoughts, is **

**Thank you again for reading, and PLEASE PLEASE _PLEASE_review! I'd love some feedback on my new installment! :)**


	10. Chapter 10

**I know it's been a while guys, and if you decide to read this chapter I must say I'll be absolutely ecstatic!:)**

**To be honest, I kind of fell away from writing as school seeped into almost every aspect of my life, and it's something that I've seriously regretted; these drabbles were originally just fast, choppy ideas that would never make it into stories, but as it continued I think I became too wrapped up in making these drabbles little stories rather than what they started out as –fun little spurts from my imagination. So I'm trying to do two things at once, now that I'm actively forcing myself to write again so I don't forget how: to actually **_**write**_** more fanfiction rather than let it run rampant in my head, and to make these drabbles more like they once were –exciting and enjoyable to create, not a chore.**

**And I must say I greatly enjoyed writing these. That doesn't mean they came out well –please bear with me as I delve back into the writing community (my writing may be a bit unpredictable for a while^^)- but at least I'm pleased that the effort I put in didn't result in something I'm ashamed to post.:) So yay!XD**

**Okay, I'll hush for now. But if you're confused about these drabbles, I'd highly recommend going down to the bottom of the page and reading the notes I've made about them.^_^**

**Thank you so much, those of you who have stuck with me and this collection of stories! You're all absolutely amazing for continuing to read my writing, I'm so grateful for your support!**

**I hope you enjoy!:)**

**Disclaimer: I almost took control of the show once… but then I thought it would be better to watch the episodes unfold from afar… so yeah, I don't own it yet. My plan is still playing out…*evil grin***

_**-x-x-x-x-**_

"I have to go," I mutter brusquely, pushing past Violet far more roughly than I thought I would; I can feel her eyes glued to my back as I rush out into the empty hallway, confused and hurt, but I'm too focused on getting away from everyone to acknowledge the pang of guilt tightening my stomach.

The door slams behind me as I sprint out of the room, and suddenly I'm alone in the passage –the already far off sounds of excited kids getting lunch fades into silence, their shouts and cries weakening until only the heaviness of this chilly air is the backdrop of my thoughts. Again I stagger forward, tripping and stumbling like an imbecile, but something's gone wrong with my balance –I can't keep myself upright, no matter how hard I push myself; with a little gasp I fall forward into the spinning world, desperately clawing at the air for something, anything to grab on to. My hands scrabble at the icy metal lockers, and lock onto the rusty grate as though it's a lifeline. And maybe it is, in a way.

My breath is coming in pants, brief and fluttering and loud in the silent hallway. _Maybe I'm sick_, I think nervously as the world stops swirling about my head, _maybe I got food poisoning or something…_

But the reason for my clogged lungs and whirling vision doesn't ring true –and somehow that frightens me even more. Sighing loudly, I let my hands come free from the locker grate and sink slowly down until I'm curled up on the tiled floor, sweat marks shining on the metal above me and my legs splayed as though someone shoved me; my heart is racing in my chest, the steady _thrum _speeding to a beat saved for racecar engines, but I can't let myself be carried away by fear.

_Take deep breaths, Becky_, I tell myself severely, turning to face the far wall and leaning my head back against the gum-strewn lockers. _Deep breaths._

The necklace laced about my neck is burning, the chunky star on its front casting a strange heat on my chin; I reach a shaky finger out and slip it between my skin and the leather, running a ring between the choker and my throat in an attempt to cool down a bit. For a moment the sensation is gone, but when I tug my finger away and return it to my forehead the warmth envelopes me again –it's not painful, just odd and unexpected… and strangely comforting.

I let another sigh escape my cracked lips, and lean back into the chilly metal; all of a sudden I'm feeling woozy, another sign I add to my mental list of symptoms. _Maybe I should just close my eyes for a minute_, I consider blearily. _That might help…_

I don't remember much after that.

'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'

"Becky, sometimes I don't know why I even bother playing these games with you," T.J. moaned irritably, crossing his chubby arms over his equally pudgy chest and scowling darkly at his elder sister.

Becky glanced up confusedly at him. "You said you wanted to play a game with me, like, ten minutes ago!" She replied testily. "What am I supposed to do if you're this fickle?" With raised eyebrows the girl leaned over and plucked the pad up from T.J.'s side –clicking the pen open, and smiling despite her obvious attempts to hide her delight, she scribbled another double-digit number onto the scoreboard.

"Well, how come we always play games that _you're_ good at? I don't know enough words to play Scrabble right any- Hey, that's not fair! What sort of word _is_ "remuneration"? Becky, you're cheating!"

His sister just shrugged nonchalantly, handing the pad back. "Remuneration means "pay" or "fee"," she replied easily. "Looks like I'm ahead again, 187 to 33."

T.J. glared at her. "Can't we play something else?" he implored her. "Maybe a tamale eating contest or something?"

From his place on the couch, Bob shrieked agreement.

"No!" Becky replied, disgusted. "Word games are so much more fun!"

"They are _not_!"

"Yeah, they _are_!"

"Nuh-_uh_!"

"Yeah-_huh_!"

Bob sighed.

'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'

I don't like being distracted, especially when I'm in the middle of something very important. It makes me extremely irritable and befuddled, and when that happens generally I make a lot of mistakes.

And this case was no different –I wasn't sure exactly why I was so upset this time around, it's not like Victoria's presence at this robot battle was particularly dangerous or anything. But something about how she kept talking to Tobey all high-pitched, kept flipping her hair and batting her eyelashes like a butterfly just drove me up the wall; it was a lucky thing that I had so many robots to deal with, or else I might have simply arrested her for being in the way.

With a sharp intake of breath I flung myself forward into the air, the weight on my shoulders lifting as Huggy threw himself over my head onto the nearest robot and tore at the antennae atop its head; I continued on through the metal menace, punching wild holes through its gut and kicking off its crumpling form like a springboard to bounce onto another. I braced myself for the shock, and stuck my hands deep into the new menace's metal skin to tear at the cables in its belly –a roaring, sputtering spurt electricity jetted from its head and bounced all down the robot, sending my hair into an unruly frizz as it passed over my body. I scowled, and reaching into the dark depths of the creation tore another handful of wires out into the sunlight; unfortunately, though, this time the robot staggered forward with me clutching at it like a sort of scarlet leech, and it tipped forward toward the building Tobey and Victoria stood atop. It was a rather heavy being, heavier than the robots I usually faced, and it took a moment of serious struggling before I managed to brace myself against its stomach and continue jerking a seemingly endless stream of fizzing wires out into my clenched fists.

"Aw, WordGirl," came Victoria's voice suddenly, reeking of honey-coated insults and echoing right beside my ear. "It's okay to be jealous. After _all_, I'm the best at making people jealous."

I felt my cheeks heat up, most likely of anger, and with a snarl tore a buzzing cable from the robot and tossed it to the cement below.

"What do you mean?" I snapped back, and with another huff aimed a scowl up at the Narrator. " And _why _does everyone keep saying I'm jealous? Because I'm _not_."

Victoria just smiled at me, her glossy lips pulling back to reveal perfect white teeth. "So you say," she replied. "So you say."

I wanted to scream, but instead just shoved forward with a sudden burst on strength and slammed the robot straight into the cement. There was no way I was going to let this wannabe flirt get to me.

No. Way.

'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'

With a little ache in his chest the monkey turns from his own gardening to tap his best friend on the shoulder; she's busy jamming plants into crude holes, with the air of one too empowered to be engaging in these foolish recreational activities.

"Becky!" he calls quietly her, and she glances arrogantly over her shoulder to raise an eyebrow as a way of answering, "What?"

Bob swallows hard. "Becky…" he starts slowly, and the girl, noting his serious tone, deigns to turn almost completely to face him. "Becky, I think we need to talk about your behavior towards the villains lately… it's been getting a little…"

Becky's eyebrows furrow slightly. "A little what?" she asks.

"A little… well…Harsh."

She scoffs. "_Harsh_? I've just been treating them the way they deserve to be treated, is all. I can't help it if that seems "harsh" to people."

Bob winces a little at her tone, so completely confident and unflinching. "Yes," he replies patiently, "but are you sure they deserve to be insulted so much? I mean, those things you said to Tobey, and the Butcher, and Two Brains… they seemed a little out of hand."

He falls silent, but the monkey searches Becky's face for any emotion –and as the weight of his words hit her, he watches as her face contorts into one of barely contained anger.

"What?" she cries loudly, fury echoing in her voice, "What are you talking about, Bob? I'm just doing my job, like I'm supposed to. Miss Power says it's okay, she says that it's good to show these people who's in charge in this town. And it's not like it really affects anything, anyways. They're just villains!"

Bob raises an eyebrow. This _can't_ be Becky talking. "They still have _feelings_, Becky. They're still human. What makes you think you can just go and be so unkind to people because you have powers they don-"

"_Gosh_, Bob! Why are you being so dense all of a sudden?" Becky snarls, leaping to her feet. "Why do these villains' feelings matter to you so much? They're the _bad _guys. We're _supposed _to take them down."

"But we're not supposed to do it like this!" Bob snaps back, "It's really wrong to do it like this, I think you-"

"-I don't care _what _you think, okay? You're just my sidekick!"

Bob stops at that, his eyes widening at the girl's words and his teeth edging out to bite his lip. "…What did you say?" he asks quietly, all his anger abruptly flooding out of him and leaving the monkey drained of every emotion but pure, unadulterated pain.

But Becky's gone, dropping her gardening shovel to the pavement with a painful _clang _and leaving a sloppy line of hastily planted flowers behind her as she storms off into the house.

Bob doesn't move, just tugs his sunhat further over his eyes and lets his shoulders slump. There's nothing more he can do.

After all, he's just her sidekick.

_**-x-x-x-x-**_

**These… were longer than I anticipated, haha!XD In fact, they originally were so short and choppy I didn't think anyone would be able to understand them, so I added a bit more of a storyline to each drabble… and ended up with way too many **

**A few notes:**

**The first drabble comes from my still-undeveloped story, the one you've seen little bits and pieces of throughout this collection^^.**

**The third comes from a silly idea that's been running through my head for a long time now –basically, Victoria (for reasons not yet known) decides to attempt flirting with Tobey, and WordGirl –to her surprise- finds herself becoming more and more jealous as the battle continues! Of course, Huggy, the Narrator, and Victoria don't help things by questioning her feelings^^.**

**The final drabble focuses on a scene we're shown a bit of in the commercial for the WordGirl movie, called "The Rise of Miss Power." I honestly have no idea what sparks the conversation in which Becky snaps at Bob, so I added in my speculation in place. We'll see how it really turns out!:D I'm so psyched for the movie!:D**

**Well, thank you infinitely for reading! Please, please please please with sugar and rainbows and unicorns on top review! I would appreciate your feedback to no end!**

**Ah yes, and Happy Valentine's Day! Consider this my gift to all of you!:)**


	11. Chapter 11

**Hello again, everyone!:D Here is my latest update, I'm sorry it took me so long but I just didn't have any inspiration.:(**

**I'm sorry if these drabbles seem a bit vague –I'm sorta getting back into writing Fanfiction (and writing in general, haha XD), and I wanted to experiment with some new styles.:)**

**The third drabble is absolutely terrible –it's supposed to take place during the Miss Power movie (as is the first drabble, but it's more about her new powers than anything else)- but it came off as horrid and I sorta gave up as a result. Sorry about that!XD**

**I hope you enjoy, nonetheless!:D**

**Disclaimer: NO. NOT YET. BUT SOON.**

_**-x-x-x-x-**_

She's leaning on the windowsill now, watching the night seep through the few remaining rays of sunlight.

Sky is red now, cold air dances on her skin. She likes the way it feels against her cheeks, it makes her feel brave; and almost without thinking she purses her lips, breathes out.

The air that issues from her mouth is colder than ice.

It forms into a bit of a cloud in front of her, and she lets another puff of breath leave her lips to join it; she's focusing now, pressing the cold into the air and winding it together with a willpower she forgets about sometimes.

But now it's solidified into a sort of fluttering icy diamond, it flickers in her vision and something is whispering in her head to _stop_.

She doesn't.

There's no one here to see.

'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'

I don't want to say I was right, but I was.

It wasn't going to work, maybe I knew that from the start –I probably did, just didn't want to admit it.

He loved Violet all along, and she loved him. I can't believe I thought I had a hope, a prayer, that he'd turn back to me the moment she'd left us alone –that his eyes would remain fixed on me for once.

...I think I've bitten my lip –there's blood against my teeth, iron in my throat. Might as well blame him for that, too –he's responsible for this disaster in the first place.

Why didn't he _tell _me that he wanted her? Maybe it would have hurt less, if he'd come out and told me right away instead of hiding behind those foolish little reasonings he called loving me. If he'd just said he was wrong, maybe I wouldn't be this way.

Better go rinse this taste out of my mouth, I hate feeling like I'm bleeding from the inside out. Expressions should only go so far.

'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'

Huggy was watching her. WordGirl could feel his eyes on the back of her neck, nervously eyeing her with an air she didn't like, but she didn't look up from the book. She didn't have the time to.

"…what is it?" she asked after a moment, and the sensation of her sidekick's gaze flicked away at the sudden sound.

"Nothing…" he squeaked. "Just… I was thinking..."

"_What_, Huggy?" She slipped her finger into the space between the pages, and snapped the cover shut. "Is something wrong?"

WordGirl could hear the bite in her voice –she'd had enough experience with that over the past few days- and something in her stomach writhed in guilt. She'd hurt him too much recently.

Captain Huggyface opened his mouth, paused, tried again. "Just… You're not…"

She turned completely to face him, tried to look as apologetic as she could without betraying her anxiety. "What is it?" She asked again.

"You're not… you're not mad at me?"

WordGirl blinked at that. "Mad?"

Huggy shrugged, waved a hand around to indicate the room. "About me hiding all of this?" He adjusted his helmet nervously.

Her heart swelled. He was worried about _that_? After everything she'd said to him, after this whole fiasco had nearly destroyed what was left of their friendship?

"Of course not, Huggy," she managed after a second. "I'm not mad at all! Don't be silly."

His eyes lit up.

'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'`'

The Butcher likes the moments when they're not fighting, when they just talk as though they're friends.

When she sighs, sinks down onto the ground next to him amidst a sea of meat and rubble, and they lean against the wall and complain about the world as though they've both got off the night shift at work and can't keep quiet any more.

Sometimes she laughs at his words, sometimes she sympathizes, sometimes she just sits quietly and listens to him grumble about his problems. He does his best to return the favor, because he likes the feeling of commiserating with someone, because he wants to be able to show that he can be just as helpful.

And because he's terribly lonely, and sometimes he thinks maybe she is, too.

He'd like to have friends, she must know this –maybe that's why she's so quick to drop her guard whenever he displays even a hint of a complaint; and maybe that's why he exploits that weakness so much, to prove that she means it.

He'd like to think that she is his friend, even if it's for a moment.

Even if she is the enemy.

_**-x-x-x-x-**_

**On a very important note: Next chapter will be the last. I had to bring this series to a close evenutally, but I'm not completely finished with it yet. So the next update will be the last.:)**

**Thanks so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed!:D**


End file.
